Kinslayer
by Olhana
Summary: The only reason for Kurapika's revenge was his wish to supress his guilt. Oneshot.


Disclamer: Hunter x Hunter belongs to Togashi Yoshihiro.

Partly inspired by song Nightwish – Kinslayer. The original idea was quite different.

* * *

Kinslayer.

"_The sun upon my face, the grass beneath my feet,_

_My skin cleansed by the water of a lake."_

Each moment Kurapika lived in this alien world pressed him to make a move. Step forward, another backward and eternally long moments of balancing on the edge, until his foot stood safely again on his never ending path. Each breath he made in this alien world stole a part of his soul. Piece by piece, like little gems are stolen from the crown, until there's nothing left except for the biggest one.

It was replaced by something, which was valued not so high in his tribe, despite being one of the most valuable thing in the outer world – a calculating mind.

"_My spirit soars among the clouds,_

_My path illuminated by the moon and stars."_

It was the only thing that kept him going, reminding and awakening a fueling rage to warm his stone-cold heart. It was a program, which kept him alive, in exchange of forgetting who he really wanted to be and who he was before everything changed. His vengeance was nothing more than a mere try to supress his guilt.

Even if it brought nothing more but pain, Kurapika was glad it could replace the devouring emptiness of his guilt. Perhaps, it was sick in some way – no, it probably was – but pain and hatred felt hundred, thousand times better than a gluttonous void inside his chest, that's what he thought.

It was just his mind, which made Kurapika realize that it was nothing else than words which changed him from the inside. Each sound was foreign, destructing the path to Kurapika's inner core, making him to forget the language of his family, trying to replace and delete even tiniest bits of memories about it.

Each word he spoke now felt like a dirtiest swearing he had ever heard. It was nothing like the melodic voice of his mother, or the deep and confident one of his father's. Words, spoken in a common language, didn't have the same feeling as they should; despite the translation being correct.

"_I honor my ancestors for bringing me to this place,_

_And defend my brethren with my dying breath."_

Sometimes he just stood and tried to remember, how it was to speak in his ancestors language and to receive an answer. When he visited shattered remains of his homeland and desperately vowed on the graves on his parents to hunt down each spider, his body didn't let him to do it proper. His being started to forget what it meant to be Kurutan. His hand couldn't freely write native letters anymore and his mouth added a disgusting accent of the foreign language to simple words.

"_I will step forward to humbly share in their joy_

_And carry the burden of their sorrows."_

It was a wonder, what five years could do to the person. Perhaps, his tribal clothes and scarlet eyes were last things, which weren't fake, which could approve that he really was from the Kuruta tribe. Because he could never share his feeling with his kin, and there was nothing that could bring him to the bright future. And when he dies, everything dies; no one will carry the burden of his sorrow.

"_By my word and deed, their name will live on…_

_For my scarlet eyes and my blood are one with theirs."_

Kurapika never thought avenging would awake his sleeping guilt; guilt, which was telling him that he is no one else but a dirty killer, who can do nothing but to take away people's lives. His sense of guilt was his personal chain and personal hell, like he decided to become himself for Phantom Troupe.

When he understood the true weight of his vow, it was just too much for him. After the death of his relatives and friends, Kurapika started to pray, pleading for support and strength for his soul, hoping that some Kurutan gods were still watching over him. Before that day he never imagined himself being so deep into traditions and religion. But he couldn't handle it by himself – not the day when he became the last one, not the day when his revenge got the first pray on the altar of Justice.

"_I will take up the mantle and accept any wrongdoing I commit,_

_To preserve the Kuruta people, until we are redeemed forever."_

He killed again, and he prayed again. When the soul of the Kuroro Lucifer went to the other side, he prayed, thanking for giving him everything that was needed for his goal and asking forgiveness for taking away all those lives, even if they deserved it.

But this time an old Kurutan prayer felt as alien as it'd never before. Words just fell from his tongue, never reaching his ancestors and gods, losing their sacred meaning even before being spoken in a hollow whisper.

"_On the scarlet eyes, I__—__"_

Kurutan prayer was never meant to be spoken in a vulgar language of the outer world, no matter how sincere it was. It was never meant to be told by the mouth of the sinner, which personal graveyard was much bigger than just whole Phantom troupe.

His will to see the outer world destroyed everything. If he never tried to pass that test, no one would ever find out about their eyes. The arrival of Spiders was only his fault.

And at this thought, Kurapika cut off his prayer, because no prayer will bring atonement to the kinslayer.


End file.
